Path To Sunday

Readings for Sunday: Matthew, Isaiah, Philippians, Matthew

About 2,000 years ago, Jesus walked into Jerusalem in triumph on the first day of the Jewish week. They were waving palm branches, the historic and biblical sign of victory. By Friday, the crowd was yelling, “crucify him!” What happened in between? Even among the twelve apostles, Judas betrayed him, Peter denied him, and all but John ran away. The Blessed Mother Mary and a few other women stood fast. But overall, Holy Week begins with the reading of the Passion story: Jesus was abandoned, denied, tortured, and publicly executed. The man did absolutely nothing wrong in life whatsoever; he was and is sinless.

We see in Jesus, God’s love for us in that God took on our humanity and then suffered and died at our hands to save us from sin and everlasting death.

When we celebrate Easter, Christ’s victory, the cross itself becomes transformed. In that way, the cross takes on multiple meanings: our sins, God’s mercy and love, the transformation of human suffering, and ultimate victory.

All four Gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, are different in their own ways. Yet all four center on, and devote the most space to, the Passion narrative. It is the center of our faith. If Jesus didn’t suffer, die, and rise, we simply would not exist as the Church; there would be no St. James Parish.

Readings for Sunday: Ezekiel, Romans, John

One of the biggest questions people ask is: why does God allow bad things to happen to good people? Many of us have known someone who lived a good and faithful life but still suffered greatly. Imagine a man who goes to Mass every Sunday, loves his wife and family, works honestly, and cares for others—yet suddenly develops a very aggressive cancer. Situations like this can seem confusing and painful. While entire books have been written on this question, the Christian faith offers a brief answer: God sometimes permits suffering or evil in order to bring about a greater good.
The Gospel story of Lazarus helps illustrate this mystery. Lazarus, along with his sisters Martha and Mary, were close friends of Jesus. When Lazarus became seriously ill, the sisters sent word to Jesus, believing that he would come quickly and heal him, since Jesus had already performed many miracles. Surprisingly, Jesus did not come right away. Instead, he stayed where he was for two more days and said, “This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God.”

By the time Jesus arrived in Bethany, Lazarus had already been dead for four days. Martha, though upset, still showed faith when she said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. Yet even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” Jesus responded with one of the most powerful statements in the Gospel: “I am the resurrection and the life.”
Jesus was deeply moved by the grief around him, even weeping at Lazarus’ tomb. Yet he also challenged the people’s faith. When he commanded, “Lazarus, come out,” the dead man returned to life. Through this miracle, many began to believe in Jesus.
This story reminds us that suffering is not meaningless. God may allow difficult moments so that something greater can emerge—often a deeper faith in Christ, who alone brings true resurrection and everlasting life.

Readings for Sunday: 1 Samuel, Ephesians, John 

People who are suffering (perhaps from illness, the loss of a job, or some other hardship) may say, “God is punishing me.” It is an understandable feeling, but it is not really how God works. Instead of explaining this in the usual three-point way, we can look to the Gospel story of the man born blind to understand it.

In Jesus’ time, many people believed that suffering was a direct punishment for sin. When Jesus and his disciples saw a man who had been blind from birth, they asked, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” They assumed that someone must have done something wrong. But Jesus rejected that idea, answering, “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”

This reveals an important truth: God permits evil, but He does not cause it. There are two main kinds of evil. First, there is moral evil—when people misuse their free will. A thief who steals, or any time we lie or gossip, is an example.

God could forcibly stop such actions, but doing so would destroy our freedom and turn us into robots. Instead, He allows us the freedom He gave us, even when we misuse it.

Second, there is physical evil—things like disease, disasters, and suffering. These are part of a world affected by original sin. God usually does not miraculously prevent them, but He permits them.

Why? Because God can draw a greater good from them. In the Gospel, the blind man is healed by Jesus, but the greater miracle is spiritual. Step by step, the man comes to recognize Jesus—not just as a man or a prophet, but as Lord. His suffering ultimately leads him into a relationship with Christ.

The greatest example of this is the cross. God allowed His sinless Son to suffer and die so that we might be saved. When suffering enters our lives, then, we should remember: God does not cause it, but He can use it to lead us closer to Him and, ultimately, to our salvation.

Readings for Sunday: Exodus, Romans, John

For what do you thirst? I am not speaking of ordinary, physical thirst, the kind that sends us reaching for a glass of water on a hot day. I mean the deeper thirst—the ache within us for something more. What do you crave? Love? Attention? Success? A better life? If we are honest, we notice something unsettling: we are never quite satisfied. We achieve one goal, and another appears. We fill one desire, and a new one rises. It seems our thirst cannot be quenched.

In the Gospel, Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at a well at noon, the hottest part of the day. She comes alone, likely to avoid the whispers of others because of her complicated past. Jews and Samaritans avoided each other, yet Jesus deliberately passes through Samaria and asks her for a drink. Shocked, she questions him. Then he speaks of “living water”—water that will become a spring welling up to eternal life.

She misunderstands, thinking of physical water. But Jesus is speaking of her deeper thirst—the longing for God. When he reveals her five husbands and the man she now lives with, he exposes the truth: she has been trying to satisfy an infinite thirst with finite relationships.

Marriage is good, love is good, but no human being can fill the space in the heart meant for God. We were created by God for God. Whether we recognize it or not, He is what we crave.

Like her, we try to quench our thirst with entertainment, success, pleasure, even sin. None of it satisfies. Only Christ can. Through prayer, Scripture, confession, generosity, and true discipleship, we draw deeply from his living water.

So the question remains: Are you thirsty? And what are you willing to do about it?

Readings for Sunday: Genesis, 2 Timothy, Matthew

In the Gospel, as Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem to suffer and die on the cross, he takes Peter, James, and John up a high mountain by themselves. Mountains in Scripture are places where heaven and earth meet—where God reveals himself. This ascent points to heaven itself. Jesus leads them; they do not get there on their own, reminding us that heaven is not something we achieve by our own efforts, nor can we rely on someone else’s faith. Relationship with God is personal, and it is Jesus who brings us there.

On the mountain, Jesus is transfigured: his face shines like the sun and his clothes become dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear, representing the Law and the Prophets—the whole of the Old Testament. Their presence reveals who Jesus truly is: the fulfillment of everything God ever promised, from Abraham onward. In Jesus, God’s plan to save humanity from sin and everlasting death is revealed. He is not just a teacher, but God incarnate, come to restore our broken relationship with the Father.

This is why heaven is better than hell. God created us for himself, for relationship with him. We are only truly at peace when we live in loving union with God. Heaven is the fullness of that union—complete, tangible, and loving beyond our comprehension. Hell, by contrast, is the absence of God: no sense of his presence, no experience of his love, no living relationship with him.

That relationship is only possible through Jesus Christ. Through his passion, death, and resurrection, he forgives our sins and opens the way to heaven. Peter wanted to stay on the mountain, but they had to come down, because the cross had to come first—and because the disciples themselves still needed transformation. The same is true for us. Lent reminds us that we must be transformed, sanctified through hardship and grace, so that we may one day share in Christ’s glory. To live with God forever in heaven—that is better than hell.

Readings for Sunday: Genesis, Romans, Matthew

Ever wonder what is wrong with the world? When we turn on the news, it is a parade of violence, scandal and lies. We have experienced injustice in our own lives. When we ask, “What is wrong with the world?” Christianity offers a direct and challenging answer: Original Sin.

In the creation story of Genesis, God creates the world and calls it good. He does not make junk; God is not responsible for the evil we see in the world. In the story, he creates Adam and Eve not because He needs them, but because He desires to share His love with them. Love is its own reason. In the Garden, they walk with God in harmony—this represents the state of Original Justice and Holiness. Humans were in a right relationship with God and with one another. In the story, they are free to eat from any tree except one, the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. It was not a test or a trap, rather, it represents that love has limits. Love is a commitment and a choice.

Tempted by the devil, Adam and Eve reject God. The fruit represents more than disobedience; it symbolizes the desire to “be like God” without God. The first sin is a rejection of divine love. Its effects ripple outward like a stone thrown into a pond. With it is the loss of Original Justice and Holiness. Humans are now marked by the stain of Original Sin and will struggle with concupiscence, an inclination to sin.

The human condition is now marked by a clouded intellect and a weakened will, and death has become part of the world. As St. Paul teaches, through one man’s sin came death—both bodily and spiritual separation from God.
Yet there is hope. If through Adam came death, through Christ comes life. Jesus, the new Adam, overcomes temptation, suffers, dies, and rises to redeem us. In baptism, we share in His victory and are restored to relationship with God. What is wrong with the world? Original sin. But there is a cure: Jesus Christ.

Readings for Sunday: Sirach, 1 Corinthians, Matthew

Why did God give us the Ten Commandments? Is he a cosmic kill joy? While people will usually agree with them in general, they will excuse themselves from following them asserting that reality is more complex, that at times you have to lie, or steal, etc. Or how about this one: it’s ok to not keep holy the Sabbath day holy (going to Sunday mass) so long as it’s to attend children’s sporting events. In the Gospel, Jesus reminds us: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.”

What is the purpose of the law, specifically the moral law? In the first reading from Sirach, we hear: “If you choose you can keep the Commandments, they will save you; if you trust in God, you too shall live… Before man are life and death, good and evil, whichever he chooses shall be given him.” The life that the Commandments offer is a life of true love. It is not about what we feel, as feelings constantly change, but agape, which is the Koine Greek word for “love” that Jesus uses.

Agape is to do good to/for another for that person’s sake, without expecting repayment. You truly can categorize each of the commandments under the banner of Love of God, or Love of Neighbor.

Anytime we break a commandment, we do evil to God, our neighbor, and ourselves. As Jesus reminds us, even looking lustfully at another person is a choice, reducing that person to that status of an object for one’s own pleasure in the mind. Of course, usually, the actual action of adultery begins in one’s thought process. That is why we seek holiness, to truly love as Jesus loves, to do and will the good of God and neighbor at all times.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, 1 Corinthians, Matthew

Does anyone know what a supermassive black hole is? To understand it, we first have to understand an ordinary black hole. When a massive star runs out of fuel, it explodes in a supernova. What remains may collapse into a neutron star, and if gravity continues to crush it inward, it becomes a black hole—a singularity where matter and energy are compressed infinitely. The curvature of space-time becomes extreme, and gravity is so powerful that nothing can escape it, not even light. The boundary where escape becomes impossible is called the event horizon.

We cannot see black holes directly because no light comes from them. Instead, we detect them by how their gravity bends light and affects nearby stars. While a typical black hole might have three to ten times the mass of our sun, a supermassive black hole can contain millions or even billions of solar masses. At the center of our galaxy lies Sagittarius A*, a supermassive black hole anchoring the Milky Way.

But what does this have to do with us?

In many ways, we experience “black holes” in our own lives—forces that drain our energy, meaning, and joy. Sometimes these black holes are other people: rejection, gossip, bullying, or constant comparison. Social media can magnify this effect, making us feel inadequate when we compare our lives to carefully staged images of perfection. Other black holes include loneliness, addiction, abuse, or the loss of purpose. They leave us feeling anxious, angry, empty, or lost.

At the center of these struggles lies something deeper: sin. Sin is not just individual mistakes; it is a turning inward, a radical self-centeredness that pulls us away from God and others. Like a black hole, it bends everything toward ourselves—our desires, our reputation, our comfort. Yet there is hope. Christianity teaches that Jesus Christ entered the darkest depths of human sin and suffering. By his sacrifice and resurrection, he brought a light that even the greatest darkness could not contain.

When we encounter that light, our lives change. Meaning replaces emptiness, love overcomes loneliness, and purpose emerges from confusion. Just as light can escape the pull of a black hole, so grace can break through the darkness of our lives—and, through us, shine into the lives of others.

Readings for Sunday: Zephanaiah, 1 Corinthians, Matthew

In our modern world, the question of who we follow matters a great deal. For those under thirty, that question often points to influencers on Instagram or TikTok—people with millions of followers who seem to have perfected life. For those less familiar with social media, an influencer is someone who is famous largely for being famous, shaping desires and lifestyles for profit. Think of Kim Kardashian with hundreds of millions of followers, or George Clooney selling Nespresso on television. The underlying message is the same: “If you want to be happy, be like me.” Look this way, buy these things, live this lifestyle—and happiness will follow.

But that message is not true. Influencers sell an image, carefully curated and often edited. Photos are filtered, flaws erased, and even Clooney has a makeup artist. These are commercials. In stark contrast, the Church holds up Jesus Christ—not photoshopped perfection, but a bloody cross. If we truly want happiness, we are invited not to follow influencers, but to follow Christ.

This leads us to a deeper question: what is happiness? The Declaration of Independence speaks of the “pursuit of happiness,” something to be chased or obtained. The word itself comes from the Old English “hap,” meaning chance or luck. Too often, happiness is tied to circumstances—winning the lottery, falling in love, or life simply going our way. And as quickly as it comes, it can disappear.

The Gospel offers us a richer word: blessedness. In the Beatitudes, Jesus uses the Greek word makarios, often translated as “blessed.” This is not luck or happenstance, but a deep, abiding state of peace, joy, and contentment rooted in God. To be blessed means that God is actively at work in us, and that we are choosing to live in relationship with Him. It is the kind of happiness that lasts.

God created us for Himself, and like a beautiful painting meant to be admired, we only flourish when we live according to our purpose. We long for meaning, love, and fulfillment—but finite things cannot satisfy infinite desires. Only God can. That is why Jesus gives us the Beatitudes, a counter-cultural recipe for true happiness. “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” He says—those detached from possessions, status, and even reputation, who cling instead to God.

Money, fame, and power cannot buy what we seek most. True happiness—true blessedness—is a gift from our Creator, given to us in and through Jesus Christ.

Readings for Sunday: Isaiah, 1 Corinthians, Matthew

Ever wonder why we Catholics are so into candles? There are many reasons, but at the heart of it is this: we believe that because of Jesus, there is light in the darkness.

Scripture often speaks honestly about darkness. In the first reading from Isaiah, written in the eighth century before Christ, the people of Israel were living through a terrible time. The Assyrian Empire had invaded the northern kingdom around 722 BC. The people were oppressed, many were carried off into exile, and pagan foreigners were brought into the land. The region of Zebulun and Naphtali became a mixed people with a mixed religion, later known as Samaritans, and they were looked down upon by Jews in the south. Isaiah even calls this area the “District of the Gentiles” and speaks of the “rod of the taskmaster.” Yet in the midst of that darkness, the prophet foretold that one day a great light would shine.

That message matters for us today. We look around our world and see violence in the Middle East, war in Ukraine, violence here in Chicagoland, corruption in politics, and deep wounds in families and culture.

At the root, we have a sin problem. Still, Isaiah’s words remind us: there is light in the darkness, and that light is Jesus.In the Gospel, Matthew tells us that Jesus went to live in Galilee, in the land of Zebulun and Naphtali, fulfilling Isaiah’s prophecy. God himself came to us. Jesus, God incarnate, entered a sinful and violent world without sin, laid down his life on the cross, and rose from the dead like the rising sun. He offers us everlasting life and shows us how to live a truly human life in holiness and justice. That is why Jesus begins by preaching, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand,” and then calls disciples. To follow Jesus is a journey of transformation, like dedicating oneself fully to a sport. Baptism is the beginning, but discipleship requires practice, commitment, and perseverance. Brothers and sisters, we are all called to be disciples and ultimately saints. In baptism we receive the light of Christ, symbolized by a candle, and we are called to shine that light brightly in a dark world.